


See Attachment

by CaptainJacq



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Anxiety, Depression, F/M, Grief, M/M, Modern AU, University AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-04
Updated: 2014-03-15
Packaged: 2018-01-14 12:58:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1267423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainJacq/pseuds/CaptainJacq
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin is suffering first year university blues.<br/>His old friends have moved away, his current ones are otherwise occupied and he still can’t quite get over the one who never made it this far.<br/>Then, one day, Merlin makes the mistake of calling arrogant, obnoxious Arthur Pendragon when he just needs someone to talk to him. Merlin hangs up. But then, completely out of the blue, Arthur emails him back. He emails him back and from that first glimpse of possibly compassionate, not-quite-a-dick Arthur, well, Merlin’s just done for.</p><p>A story of letters, emails, video messages, letting go of the past and moving forward, one little step at a time.<br/>Or mouse click.<br/>Whichever works.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Out of the Blue

**Send Message**

**TO: Gwen**

**Hey, how close r u?**

**Rly need to buy tickets**

**Do u want me to get urs?**

 

For the third time in as many minutes, Merlin leaned forward to peer down the street, tapping his phone idly as he searched for the frizzle of hair and purple coat he was looking for. Unfortunately, Gwen was still not in sight and as he sighed and pressed send, he eyed the little clock in the top corner of the screen. They only had fifteen minutes until the movie started and he didn’t really want to look inside the theatre and see just how long the line was. He should have just bought tickets online, that way they wouldn’t have risked getting shit seats. Frowning, he looked up and down the street again just as his phone buzzed with the _Message Sent!_ screen popping up. Tucking his hands back into his pockets Merlin shrugged his shoulders against the rush of cold wind that wove up the street, going straight through him in the process. Unfortunately it was still only Autumn and Merlin had quickly realised that he was going to have to start looking for a replacement coat, because as much as he loved the one he had, it wasn’t doing it’s job anymore. Too much washing and wearing had made the seams pull and the material threadbare. It wasn’t something he was eager to have to buy; after all, a decent coat was a whole lot of money he simply didn’t have. Hell, just this outing with Gwen was going to set him back to pot noodles for a few days until his pay came through. He really needed to find a new flatmate soon. Paying twice the rent was killing him.

 

Merlin grimaced and tried to force back the melancholia rising up in him. He’d promised himself that he wasn’t going to think about all that. It had been weeks since he’d seen Gwen outside of uni. Between coursework, normal work and Gwen’s new squeeze, Merlin hadn’t seen her since Sefa’s dinner party three weeks ago.

 

Rocking on his heels to keep his limbs from locking up, Merlin almost jumped when his phone buzzed in his pocket and he pulled it out, expectantly.

 

Gwen’s reply wasn’t at all heart warming and the stubborn pressure he’d been keeping at bay, determined to have a good time, suddenly gave.

 

**Message Received!**

**FROM: Gwen**

**OMG So sorry Merlin!**

**I totally forgot! Im out**

**w/ Lance. I cant come.**

 

Merlin sighed and stared at the screen. A week ago Gwen had been eager when he’d finally plucked up the courage to text her. Eager and happy and looking forward to it. Flashforward a week later and here he was, standing out the front of the cinema like an idiot, completely irrelevant to the rest of Gwen’s life.

 

**Send Message**

**TO: Gwen**

**Don’t worry about it.**

 

 

Hell, they were only going to sit in the dark for two hours not talking to each other. It shouldn’t be so bloody disappointing. Besides, it wasn’t like she meant it. Gwen was too nice for this to be anything but what she’d said. A simple slip of the mind. But there was just something really depressing, Merlin thought, about going to the movies on your own. It always made him think that those people were avoiding something, or someone. That they didn’t want to go home, for some reason. Or perhaps they simply had no reason to go home at all, with no one waiting for them there.

Kinda like him right now.

 

Tucking away his self-deprecation, Merlin tucked his phone away and pushed off the wall. If he just went home now then he could buy something decent for dinner at the little fish and chips shop on the corner and still have some left over for groceries to last until pay day. But that didn’t stop his disappointment. Black Fang 5 was just the type of ridiculous movie he loved, very little plot, plenty to keep the book fans both pleased and horrified and with as many explosions that could possibly be shoved into 2 hours. He’d been looking forward to it for months, but it simply wasn’t a film he wanted to see on his own. He’d seen the other four with Will, if not the entourage he’d found himself a part of in high school, and the prospect of going alone just made his skin itch.

 

Tucking his hands deep into his pockets, Merlin started the walk back to his flat.

 

Maybe tomorrow would be better, he thought, staring at his feet.

_Please let tomorrow be better._

 

*

 

Thursdays, Merlin had decided when he was nine years old, were awful. They were just before Friday and seemed to go on forever. And they weren’t nice, either.

 

Unfortunately, he was having a Thursday and by lunchtime, Merlin was just about ready to cry. He’d forgotten to plug his phone in the night before after he’d slumped in front of the television like a sad sack with a giant wrapping of fish and chips, so when six thirty came, when he was supposed to wake up for his 8 am lecture, Merlin went right on sleeping. He slept all the way through to nine o’clock, which was a decent sleep, yes, but basically fucked, because he had missed one class and the probability of making it to his three hour tutorial anything less than an hour late, was nigh impossible. And the tutor already hated him.

 

The good day he’d really needed simply didn’t come. To add to it, all it took was Gwen and her bumbling apology to make things even worse.

 

“I’m really sorry, Merlin,” she said, pouncing on him almost the minute he escaped the Dragon’s dungeon. Merlin wanted to be annoyed with her. After all, he’d stood on the corner waiting for half an hour before he had enough information to make a sad march home. But Gwen was delightful. She was bright and enthusiastic and bumbling in an annoyingly affectionate way. Gwen’s nervous prattling was cute, while Merlin’s, as one particular prat back in high school had put it, was simply irritating. For a moment, Merlin felt a flush of nostalgia and a little desperation that things could be that simple and easy again. But high school was over, university sitting in front of them, stretching into the ether and everyone else from Camelot had moved on, skipping town and settling at Albion University some three hours train away. While Merlin was still here.

 

“That’s fine,” Merlin offered Gwen, smiling at her. Gwen’s relief was palpable and he felt bad for being mad at her, especially when she shoved a cup of coffee into his hands.

 

“As an apology,” she said, looking glum. Merlin took it off her happily. He needed something badly, as he’d pretty much made a run for it after waking up. It was lucky he wasn’t wearing his trousers on inside out. Merlin immediately took a sip and while it was hot, just on the right side of drinkable, it was still the good stuff, from the posh café on the other side of campus. It was expensive and Merlin’s favourite, but he certainly couldn’t afford it with his current bills.

 

“You’re a gem, Gwen, thanks,” he said, happily. Taking another sip and following her as she lead the way towards their biomolecules and cells tutorial. Unfortunately, there were stairs between Merlin and the Lantic corridor and he miss-stepped, too busy drinking and wound up tripping down the six steps left and upending Gwen’s apology coffee all over himself.

 

His palms stinging, Gwen filling the air with her shocked babbling and the hot, wet burning sensation of good coffee soaking through his clothes dragged Merlin’s fragile mood into the gutter.

 

He was having a Thursday and a Monday all rolled into one.

 

“Merlin, are you okay?” Gwen asked, kneeling down in front of him, gathering his books out of the wet mess dripping off his jacket and t-shirt, while other students chuckled and moved around them. This wasn’t the first Merlin Accident he’d had with these particular stairs and they were far beyond helping him anymore.

 

“Yup,” he said, automatically. Not meaning it in the slightest. “Yup. I’m good.”

 

Scrambling back to his feet he wiped idly at his clothes and tried to settle his emotions into something malleable. Something he could work with and shove down deep, because right then, as his palms stung and his t-shirt clung to his chest all hot and wet, he simply felt utterly miserable. His books were splattered with coffee and even with Gwen’s earnest efforts to wipe the best of it off his notes, everything he’d written down in Kilgarrah’s class was ruined and the pages in his biomechanics textbook were just waiting to curl. He could almost feel it.

 

“Oh Merlin, I’m sorry. I wasn’t watching, I should have warned you,” Gwen babbled helplessly. Right then, all he wanted was for her to be quiet and it was suddenly really hard not to start crying like a child right there in the corridor.

 

“I’m going to go find some toilet paper or something to clean the floor. You should go to class,” he said, rather tonelessly. Gwen just looked guilty. He wanted to feel bad for it. Really he did. Gwen was, after all, the only one of his old friends who had come to Camelot University instead of heading north to Albion. With Will gone, she was the only friend he had, really. Leon had told him to keep in touch, and so had Percy. Arthur hadn’t thought that far, but then again, Arthur had been determined to escape the looming shadow of his father’s influence and hadn’t looked back. Leon had texted him twice since they started their respective terms. The third and forth time Merlin’s phone had lit up with something from Leon, it was clear the man had mistaken Merlin’s number for someone named Mithian. Percy, dear, considerate Percy, had sent him an email when they’d moved into halls and since then it had been quiet. The old group was gone and Merlin was stuck in the past, desperately starting to feel like he was drowning. And as much as he loved Gwen, with her attentions fixed on her new romance with the Pre-Med grad Lance, he was almost certain she didn’t have a clue. And he really couldn’t blame her.

 

Like right then, biting her lip, her cheeks flushed pink and her eyes bright, all Merlin wanted her to do, was bundle him off and fuss over getting him a new shirt. But instead, she backed away as he wiped aimlessly at his jacket, dripping coffee residue on his shoes.

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Yeah,” he shrugged. “We’ll need the notes. So you need to go so I can copy them later. I’m gonna have to go home and change.”

 

“Ok, ok, sure,” she nodded. Still looking conflicted, but she still held out his books and waited patiently for him to take them off her.

 

“I’ll see you later, ok?” she asked timidly and he nodded.

 

“Yeah. Class tomorrow. I wont be late.”

 

She didn’t look appeased, but they’d been running close to time anyway and she had to hurry off in order to make it to their lecture on time.

 

Merlin, however, stood aimlessly in his patch of spilt coffee and closed his eyes for a moment, embracing how completely, horribly miserable he felt right then.

 

And then he opened his eyes and went looking for the closest bathroom so he could find some toilet paper to clean up.

 

By the time Merlin got back to his apartment he was cold, his fingers numb, even in his gloves and all he wanted to do was curl up in bed and fucking sleep until this whole part of his life was over. He wanted to go to sleep and wake up 35 and bored out of his mind. Anything was better than this quagmire of misery he couldn't quite climb out of. And it didn't seem to matter how hard he tried. His Mam had been so worried about him, and Merlin knew she still was. She'd never quite grasped how thin the walls of their house had been when she'd been talking to her bowling friends about him. She'd really hoped that going off to university would be the change he needed to find some new friends and a new burst of happiness in his life. Merlin hadn't the heart to tell her that he'd not made any new friends (because no matter how hard Gwen tried, Lance really didn't count. Not when they tripped over each other trying to say the same things. They were a single being and left Merlin's friend counter stubbornly at one). He didn't have the heart to tell her just how much of his savings had disappeared after his previous flat mate had immediately shacked up with a girl in the third week of term. He didn't have the heart to ask her for money, or to tell her just how tired he was all the time, let alone how he was feeling right now. And right now, he was feeling lonelier than he had in months. He missed Will with more of himself than he had left in that moment and there was nothing in the world except his Mam he wouldn’t give up in order to get him back.

 

But in Will's place, Merlin had double rent, essays, tests, a part time job and in all likelihood a fucking cold, given the way the wind hadn't stopped since May and his clothes were still wet.

 

Stripping off his still sodden clothes, Merlin dumped them immediately into his hamper and tried to promise himself that he was going to get to the Laundromat first thing after class tomorrow, but he already knew the chances were slim to none.

 

Crawling into the shower Merlin turned the hot tap as far as he could stand it and just stood underneath it, letting it cascade over him and turn his skin into a giant red flush. Clenching his eyes shut he tried to think through everything that he really needed to do: the essay he had due that he could use this time to finish, the revision he should probably start, hell, he could read through the chapter that they were probably covering in the class he was missing. But really, all he could do was fight vainly against the rush of fucking emotion that reared up inside of him as his inner consciousness spoke up in Will's fucking lilt, saying 'Nah, fuck it, mate. You work too hard!'

 

And then he was a goner. Merlin broke down and fucking cried, clenching his hands against the tiled wall, keeping him upright. His chest hurt and he was shaking as he stood there, his fingers pruning under the water pressure, tingling in the warmth compared to the cold they'd been ever since he'd woken up.

 

Merlin closed his eyes and fucking cried.

 

When he was little, his Mam had always told him it was better out than in. Better out than in, my little bird, she’d say, and wipe under his eyes with her thumbs and hug him. Somehow it had always made him feel better. After that, no matter what it was he’d always think better out than in and damn anyone who teased him for it. Or at least he’d tried; things got harder the older he got.

  
But as the water suddenly ran cold, forcing Merlin to fumble with the taps and finally collect himself, he didn’t bloody feel better. If anything, he felt worse. All clogged and stuffy like he was full of cotton balls.

But Merlin hadn’t got anywhere in life by doing nothing. Will had been right when he’d said Merlin worked too hard. In reality, Merlin didn’t know any other way. Growing up with only him and his Mam he’d learned early that he had to work hard to get anywhere. To get to school on time he had to wake up early, he had to pack his own lunch at nights so they would be waiting for him the next day. He had to catch a ride on the bus with his Mam to her work at the post office and then walk the five blocks to school. He was always the first kid there, just him and the empty school and a parking lot full of teachers cars, but he didn’t mind because he got to read his books and keep ahead of everyone else in his class. He’d made sure to do his homework every night and try as hard as he could so he could always see his Mam smile when he took home his work with a giant gold star in the corner, or a smiley face next to his grade. He’d gone to school rain, hail or shine, unless he was puking his guts out first thing in the morning. Better out than in, his Mam would say and kiss his brow. But if he just had the sniffles he always went to school. If his tummy ached or he had a headache or he’d tripped over walking home, it never really mattered. His Mam had to go to work and Merlin went to school. If he was still sick by lunchtime his Mam would always pick him up and take him home, but otherwise he went to school. He learned early that the world didn’t stop because he wasn’t feeling his best and learned just as quickly that hard work paid off. It was a surprise when the letter came, Merlin remembered. It had never been something his Mam or he had ever thought about, but it was something they thought about a lot after the letter came.

 

Ealdor was a small town, not much in it and not much in the way of escaping it. There was one primary school, one high school and you had to go away if you wanted to go to university, but not many people did. For Merlin, however, there was Camelot. Camelot was three hours away on the train, a bustling city full of people in fast cars and traffic lights and Camelot Private Boys School, a prestigious private high school that catered to the offspring of the social elite and a handful of academic achievers. One of Merlin’s teachers had submitted his name and somehow Merlin’s hard work had paid off. Instead of Ealdor High, Merlin found himself stuffed into a sharp blazer that didn’t quite fit properly, a tie that made him feel like he was being strangled and a curriculum that made him work harder than ever for his good grades. He and his Mam had to move out of their little cottage in Ealdor into a tiny square of an apartment that was half the size they’d once had. His Mam had to take a second job to help pay for all the things that Merlin’s scholarship didn’t cover, but she never once complained and always smiled when he brought home his essays. There were no smiley faces or gold stars anymore, just jarring numbers written in red pen, but Merlin adored the feedback his teachers gave him and thrived on it. He’d been happy, as much as he could be. He’d never been a child with a huge selection of friends, in Ealdor people had picked him up and tossed him around for a while like a toy, keeping themselves entertained while Merlin gave them everything he had, but those little friendships never lasted, they grew bored, eventually, and after a while Merlin gave up.  
  
At Camelot it was much the same way, he was eyed askance by the boys in their perfectly fitting blazers and knotted ties, scowled at by the girls they shared their playground with from the adjacent Camelot Private Girls College. He learned quickly that school was very much the same no matter how much you paid to go there. At Camelot he was teased for always being the first to answer questions, mocked for the uniforms his Mam bought him second hand. He’d expected it, really. The size of his ears had never given him the ability to escape notice and his enthusiasm with learning wasn’t something a lot of children his age shared. But despite everything, Merlin had never expected William Harris, either. Will was what the other boys sneered as ‘New Money’ and ostracized as often as Merlin, but where Merlin survived their attention, Will thrived on it. He never once seemed ashamed of the fact that his mother had suddenly found a fortune in her lap after her Great, Great Aunt had died and decided the little niece she’d met once forty years ago had better use of it than her own children. Will like to exaggerate the expression his distant relatives had when the court had ruled against them and let Will’s mum keep the money and he liked to do it in front of the Royals.

The Royals were the golden elite of the school. Every year had their equivalent; in Merlin’s case it had been the Round Table. Arthur Pendragon was their self-appointed leader and was pig headed, rude and a know it all that made Merlin cringe every time he opened his mouth. In the beginning he’d always answer questions in this smug tone that was begging someone to tell him he was wrong, especially when he _always was_. Things changed over time, by the time they’d reached their last few years Arthur found some distant desire to succeed mostly spurred on by Camelot’s championship football team, but compared to most he breezed through life and he loved to tell Merlin that he was destined to be Arthur’s lackey; that he didn’t need to work as hard as everyone else because that’s what people like Merlin were for. It drove Merlin bonkers.

 

But with Will, Merlin somehow made a friend. Or, rather, Will forced Merlin into friendship. It was a mutual growth out of poverty thing, he said, that neither of them had been born with a golden spoon sticking out of their mouths and that made them better people. Merlin didn’t understand it. Will was the type to abhor school. He hated science, couldn’t stand history and barely bothered to focus in any of the literature classes. But Will loved sports, and he was good at them. He was solid and not afraid to strike flesh when he needed to which made him a formidable weapon on the pitch. Will loved football and bemoaned the fact that Merlin barely new which way the pitch went, let alone the offside rule or whatever it was. But Will was a good person; he was hilarious and rude and ran at life with all the gusto that he ran after a ball with. He gave Merlin a life that wasn’t constricted by the limits of his social standing and his all-consuming love of learning. He gave Merlin’s life something that no one else ever had, and when it was gone, when Merlin was suddenly sitting in the middle of the home room surrounded by footballers and several distressed looking teachers, Merlin really had no idea what to do with his life. Will had given him something he’d never found again and without it, Merlin was drowning.

 

Nearly nine months later, and Merlin was so far underwater he didn’t know how he was still alive. The weight of the world was getting too much for him and he didn’t know what to do.

 

He just really needed someone to talk to; someone who wouldn’t ask him anything important, who would hardly notice that he was barely holding himself together. He couldn’t call Gwen; he just couldn’t find the right words to explain how impossible it seemed to explain to her how miserable he was. He just needed an escape, someone who didn’t care but at the very least knew him. Who had no expectations of him. Who was reliable even if they didn’t talk.

 

Which was why he found himself staring at Arthur Pendragon’s stupid face from his contacts page. Arthur had never cared about Merlin, not really. He’d always had this air of indifference that Merlin had never perforated. He’d never really been within Arthur’s notice except as a source of amusement and as ridiculous as it sounded even to himself, Merlin needed that, he needed good old reliable, infuriating Arthur, even if it was just going to be an exercise in insults.

 

Merlin didn’t care. He pressed call and nervously brought the phone up to his ear, it buzzed in his hands as it rang, once, twice, and again, buzzing with each ring as Merlin waited and waited until with a tiny ding it passed over into Arthur’s voicemail and immediately Merlin’s courage failed him. He pressed cancel and all but threw the phone away from him like it burned hot in his hands. What the Christ had he been thinking? Was he really that stupid that he needed to hear Arthur Pendragon call him an idiot again just to… what? That was just it, he realised, _he didn’t know._ He just really, really didn’t know what he wanted out of the man. Out of anyone.

 

Scrunching his hands up into his hair, Merlin pulled and let out a low, frustrated groan, trying to focus the panicky feeling that was coursing through him, making his body shake and his emotions scatter.

 

He just really, really wanted something to go right, something to alleviate the pressure of his own downward spiral. But he didn’t know what, and he didn’t know how, and not for the first time Merlin contemplated calling his Mam and just breaking down on the phone to her. He knew she’d come and get him, she’d drop everything she was doing and she’d come, but he didn’t know what happened next, what his Mam could do except hold him while he fucking broke down and pet his hair. Run her thumb under his eyes and tell him ‘better out than in, my little bird. Better out than in.’

 

Merlin wiped furiously at his eyes then and tried to focus, tried to calm himself down. He was just working himself up for no reason, really. It wasn’t helping anyone, he thought furiously, least of all himself. And it wasn’t getting his work done. Pushing himself up, Merlin eyed his pile of coffee-stained books he’d dumped on his desk when he’d got home and opened them with distaste. The pages of his molecular biology book were brown and still damp around the edges and he was going to have to be careful prying them apart otherwise he was going to tear them. His notes, on the other hand were a mess. The ink hadn’t run, instead the paper had just stuck together in giant brown patches making those underneath nigh on unusable. Swearing under his breath, Merlin was about to start an Epic Search for the iron his mother had left him with in an attempt to dry them out when he was startled near out of his skin by the sound of his phone ringing. Merlin swore as he dropped to his knees and started fishing around under the edge of the bed where he could hear the damn thing. Suddenly regretting his earlier decision to throw it halfway across the room Merlin clasped it tight just moments before the part of the song where he knew it reached voicemail. Glancing at the screen Merlin had a good second to accept the obnoxious face of Arthur Pendragon staring back at him before he forced himself to press answer and regretted it almost immediately.

 

“ _Merlin! Don’t tell me you butt-dialled me!”_ Arthur burst out happily, still sounding as vibrant and obnoxious as Merlin remembered and relief coursed through him like a wave.

 

“Sorry,” he said, sounding a little stupid, even to himself. Arthur, however, just scoffed and for a moment it was last year and the relief then was palpable.

 

“ _I’m hurt. I always knew you were stupid, Merlin, but I thought you had smarts enough to know I’m quality. Hey, at least your butt knows. What’s the emergency, Merlin?_ ”

And suddenly, despite the fact that not five minutes ago he really, really just wanted someone to talk to, someone to just _care_ about him for a moment, he had absolutely no idea what to say to Arthur Pendragon. Arthur: obnoxious, rude, self-serving, golden Arthur Pendragon, who had never really been friends with Merlin anyway. He’d always been the leader of their group, dragging the whole lot of them along, only paying attention to them when they served a purpose, and beyond a good teasing about his ears, or his clothes, or his grades, or his job – hell, anything and everything Arthur deigned to notice about him – Merlin didn’t serve a purpose. When Arthur wasn’t teasing him, well, Merlin simply didn’t exist. He was somehow the fly, buzzing around the otherwise group of the attractive, well-liked bunch of athletic know-it-all’s simply because he knew Will. And then, after Will, there had been Gwen who kept him from sitting alone, when he’d been certain he’d just fall away with nothing keeping him anchored. Gwen had been the key to it, and without her, even now; he had no idea what he was doing.

 

“ _Merlin_?” Arthur asked again, as Merlin just said nothing.

 

“I, er, you know. Uni stuff. Which I need to get back to. Sorry I butt dialled you.”

 

Merlin hung up.

 

He wasn’t sure if anyone had ever hung up on Arthur before. His sister, Morgana, might have; it was the sort of thing she’d probably do, the way Merlin remembered her. But then, Arthur probably wouldn’t think on it much, considering that it had been five months since high school finished and Merlin, inconsequential Merlin, whose only claim to fame was being the little queer best friend of that right wing footballer who got run over. He was probably sneering to his friends about the blast from the past that just called him for _no reason, weird right?_ Loserrrr!

 

Hands shaking, Merlin dropped his mobile and pressed his palms firmly against his eyelids, trying to hold back panicky tears. Why oh why did he have to crown the glory of another Thursday by calling bloody Arthur Pendragon? What on earth possessed him to think he needed more humiliation than he’d already had today?

 


	2. The First Email

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin gets a surprise reply he didn't really see coming.

Merlin woke the next morning feeling muddled and lazy, but with the sharp blaring of his phone sitting on the other side of the room and the exhausting knowledge he had another class to get to. Stumbling around for some-what clean clothes he slumped in his desk chair to pull on his shoes, accidentally knocking his computer into life. And there, sitting in his inbox, was a glaring, unopened email from **bloodykingarthur@gmail.com.** Merlin was suddenly _very_ awake, and very confused. Feeling unsure, he tentatively opened the email and stared at the screen.

_Figured you missed my face. Thought I’d change that._

There was an attachment, somehow feeling less anxious about the whole thing, Merlin clicked the link and watched it download. Opening the file he wasn’t surprised to see a picture of Arthur’s stupid face. It was a horrible photo, grainy from being taken in poor lighting with a webcam. His hair wasn’t it’s usual flecked gold, but looked grey and pasty and the expression Arthur was pulling, all stupid machismo, was ridiculous. But it somehow made Merlin feel better.

A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he typed a reply.

_Your face is a virus. It nearly broke my computer._

He hit send and with a renewed vigor he made himself presentable and ready for class. He needed to get Gwen’s notes at some point and check in with Gaius to see when he was working next, as well. Nothing ever stopped. He still had two mini reports to write, three chapters to read by Monday and research for that essay from Kilgarrah he was trying to put off doing. But the weight of it wasn’t quite as deafening now. 

But as good a mood as he started with, it didn’t last as far as his first class. Living as close as he did to the university at least meant he didn’t have to rely too hard on public transport. But that didn’t quite give him the freedom that he’d truly hoped it would. He lived a six block walk, that in good weather put clean air in his lungs and gave him at least a modicum of exercise. When the weather was foul it left him just far enough to walk that he was always miserable by the end of it. It wasn’t raining, so Merlin was at least lucky enough there, but there was a harsh chill to the wind that reminded him sorely that he really did need a new coat. By the time he got to uni all he wanted was a cup of something warm and for the class to go at least comfortably well. But as Merlin’s week was going he had left his wallet at home and still wound up running a good five minutes late for class, as he only realized when he got to the front of the god-damned line.

Kilgarrah wasn’t pleased with him either.

“Late again Mr Emrys, though comparable to yesterdays class. At this rate you might just show up on time for your exams in six weeks.”

Chastened, Merlin slumped in his seat with a blush to his cheeks the only thing keeping him warm. Without his morning caffeine, Merlin found it harder to keep focused on Kilgharrah’s droning voice as he explained the fundamentals of biosignals. These had been the types of classes he had looked forward to in the lead up to university. Classes that would mold his brain into something brilliant, fill it with knowledge that went beyond anything he had even thought of, yet alone grasped in his early studies. His first few weeks in class had been everything he’d wanted, but as the stress in his life outside these classrooms built and built, it was getting harder and harder to keep up. And that was a terrifying thing. Without his ability to learn, what was he? What did he have except his brain?

So in place of going home early as he usually did on a Friday, Merlin approached Kilgharrah after class to explain his mishap on the stairs yesterday and took a copy of the professor’s notes and his own from the last three hours and searched out an alcove in the library. With his packed lunch and half a bottle of stale water from the bottom of his backpack Merlin settled himself down to push the last few days worth of notes firmly into his brain. It wasn’t _beyond_ his grasp, but it was theory that -even for him - _was_ hard to grasp. 

By the time he roused himself out of a half doze he couldn’t remember taking it was after six and completely dark outside. Packing up his belongings Merlin made the walk back to his apartment hunched over and fearing the inevitable cold he couldn’t afford to get considering how much work he had ahead of him. But with a dinner of pot-noodle warm in his stomach and a cup of tea making his fingers burn and tingle pleasantly, he was hedging on somewhere near content as he ever was by the time he slumped in front of his computer. He wasn’t happy; it had been a long, long time since he had been anything close to _happy_. But he wasn’t sad, either. Which he had to count as something.  
Which is why the feeling of gentle surprise felt so alien to him when he tapped his computer awake to find his email open at the front of the screen with yet another email bolded and new from one bloodykingarthur@gmail.com.  
Curious and a little wary, Merlin opened the email and stared at the little paperclip signaling an attachment. What on earth had Arthur Pendragon sent him now?

_My face is a commodity. It’s insured for $10,000. I do car commercials in Japan._

Merlin just stared at the single line of text for a moment before his brain actually decided to function and the thought crept up on him like a snake. Arthur Pendragon had just quoted Mean Girls at him. 

_Mean Girls._

Merlin wasn’t ashamed to admit that he just stared at the screen for a good minute before he laughed, a quiet burst of sound that leapt out of him without thought and the sound near on startled him. 

So with a somehow lighter heart, Merlin clicked the attachment and watched it download.

And there it was, Arthur Pendragon wearing a long blond wig and lipstick.

_Did you take that picture especially for me, or was it something you just had lying around?_

Merlin typed, feeling something pleasantly buoyant in his chest for the first time in a while. It felt silly to be so giddy after something so foolish but the feeling was persistent as Merlin sat there, unable to even open his work books for the longest time. It was beyond anything he’d been hoping for yesterday, and he barely knew what to do with himself, forcing himself to get up he went back into the kitchen and made himself another cup of tea just as an excuse to do something with his hands. The rhythm was soothing and long practiced and the giddiness he had been feeling before eased into something warm and comforting as he took his mug back towards his little computer desk with every intention of getting to work on his essay. But there, waiting for him, was another message. 

_Just for you, Dumbo._

And for the first time in a while, Merlin’s smile lit the room for the rest of the night.

*&*

Merlin had never quite gotten the hang of weekends. He had never quite seen them in the same light as everyone else his age. Frankly, Merlin didn’t know what to do with himself on days off, he simply didn’t have them. Weekdays had always been for school, weekends he’d spent working. In Ealdor it had been a little corner store where he helped behind the counter and stocking the shelves so old Miss Finna didn’t have to keep bending down. It hadn’t paid much, but all that it did pay went to helping his Mam, and that had been more than enough for Merlin. In Camelot he worked at a Pharmacy, stocking shelves and learning bit by bit off Gaius, the owner, storing the knowledge away for himself. Now the money was all his own, paying the expenses that piled up on top of him just to live. He was never the type to go out on the weekends. The amount of times Will used to come around come dinner time, moaning about Merlin being a bore were priceless to him now. But back then it had been amusing, that Will expected Merlin to be able to just skive off what needed to be done. It wasn’t until now he realized how much he’d missed being so facetious. He’d missed out on so many days with his best friend, and in many ways he’d missed out on being a kid. 

Weekends for Merlin now still revolved around work. Working for Gaius, and then back at his apartment, working on his classes. Every now and again, Gwen would have come over and they made dinner, but it had been a while since that happened, so come Sunday, Merlin wasn’t expecting anything different than usual. Gwen had stopped by the Pharmacy early on Saturday to drop off the notes she’d collected for him on Thursday, but beyond that it was the same. Merlin ate his sandwich out the back over a book on genes and the environment, and then walked home. Except, on Sunday, there was a slight difference in the form of an email waiting for Merlin when he once again, slumped in front of his computer. 

A bolded, brand-new email with a tiny little paperclip attachment waiting for him.

_No reply, Merlin? I’m hurt._

The attachment took longer to download this time and it had Merlin curious. It wasn’t until he actually clicked the file before he realized it was a movie file instead of a photograph and he couldn’t help but feel strangely wary as VLC player opened. But the Arthur in the recording looked the same as he had back in school, with his blond hair and cocky grin, shirt open at the collar. He was painfully attractive in a way that no one could argue, even Merlin who spent most of his time trying to avoid acknowledging people from a whole different gene pool than his own. His room was still badly lit, and despite the fact Arthur was probably recording on a computer four times the price of Merlin’s own, the footage was still grainy as the computer tried to compensate for the horrible lighting. But he looked good, in a way that Merlin envied, even before he clicked play, Arthur looked relaxed in the first frame, and dare he say it, happy. And oh how Merlin envied him.

_“Hey, Merlin,”_ Computer Arthur said, still grinning. _“Normal people talk on Skype and shit these days. At least that’s what Mithian says, but she’s been known to be wrong, and I totally know you wouldn’t have agreed to it. But that’s irrelevant, yeah? It’s like you don’t even want to speak to me, hanging up like that. Rude. You’re rude, Emrys. Here I am going out of my way to say hi and catch up and you can barely string three sentences together. So I figure, I’m just going to keep sending you things until you send them back. Proper things. None of this four word sentences crap. Answers, Emrys. I want_ answers. _How’s god-damned Camelot going, huh? You shagged the whole LGBTA Society yet? Been perving on the football team? You’ll have to start if you haven’t. Gotta get my spies in early. We’ve gotta crush them and I’m not above a little espionage. So yeah, come off it. Talk to me, Sherlock. It’s been a while since I’ve seen your stupid face.”_

Merlin prided himself on being able to understand a vast amount of knowledge at a fast pace. But understanding what had just come out of Arthur Pendragon’s mouth took him a moment. Took him a long moment. It seemed so beyond real that Arthur would go this far to initiate a conversation they’d never really had in six years of high school. Sure they’d talked, but Arthur had never gone out of his way like this to get Merlin to say anything of any substance. Arthur’s interaction with him had always been along the glib form of asking the answers for future tests or simply hapless teasing. It hadn’t really gone either way. The only exception had been the funeral, and that had been a day no one had been their best, let alone Merlin. It was a day he barely remembered, a day he spent practically catatonic, but he did remember Arthur just staring at him, like he knew something Merlin didn’t. Just staring. Percy had kept asking him if he was okay, but Arthur hadn’t said anything, he’d just stared, and somehow that had been the longest conversation they’d ever had and neither of them had said a word.

And yet now, now he was faced with Arthur suddenly demanding life updates after more than six months silence and several hundred kilometers distance.  
It was strange, and yet Merlin felt happier than he had in a long time. That tightly wound knot in his chest had loosened and all it had taken was the courage to make a phone call and answer one in return.  
How odd.

Still, the idea of answering Arthur made Merlin far too anxious to actually do it. Instead he found himself staring at the mocking little curser on the screen and waiting for the words to come. It wasn’t something that eluded him often. He had the ability to talk on and on when needed, whether it be exams or essays or in person. Word counts had never been Merlin’s weakness. That had always been people.

He wasn’t sure where it had all gone wrong, where the switch that usually gets flipped when people develop the ability to hold a descent conversation or create emotional ties with another human being had been when it was his turn, but it had never been flipped. Of that he was sure. 

Books and theories and science and maths came far too easily; making friends was like a whole other language and it left Merlin petrified. 

But he had to admit that there was a tiny feeling in his stomach as he stared at the messages from Arthur n his mailbox that burned warm. He’d felt so damn cold for so damn long that the light of it, the heat of his own small spark of hope burned in a way it never had before. In a way such a small act of kindness really shouldn’t.  
It was insignificant, but to Merlin it felt like a bonfire. 

_Alas life here remains as boring as ever,_ he typed. _I have not slept with the entire LGBTQ Society yet. My studies keep me too occupied for anything, really. I did go to one of those cinema fundraisers during O-week, but haven’t done anything since. I don’t know if the sports teams are doing anything._

Merlin stopped typing and stared at the screen. The truth was, he _couldn’t_ check the sports teams. He couldn’t make himself. He’d barely been able to stay inside his Mam’s apartment when the sports report had come on the news ever since he’d graduated high school.

The very idea of sport without Will was nauseating. 

_I wont have time to check, either. Sorry._

_Sorry again for butt-dialing you._

_\- Merlin_

Merlin bit his lip and closed his eyes a moment, waiting for something else to come. For some other way to phrase an email that really gave nothing away but made him impossibly anxious all the same. It was perhaps the closest he’d come to actually exposing the way he was feeling by making that stupid phone call to Arthur the other night, and the fact that the man was drawing out the torture with this improbable emailing was something Merlin couldn’t quite wrap his head around. His Mam and Gwen were all assured that he was still grieving. Gwen had asked him how he was on an almost regular basis, and his Mam always made sure to talk his ear off every chance she got. But Merlin hadn’t told them how bad it was, how alienated and alone and terrifyingly afraid he felt all the time.  
He couldn’t tell them that, they were his headers, even if they didn’t know it. If they didn’t know how to deal with him them he was lost to the wind. 

The absolute worst part of that was how relieving that idea sounded sometimes.

And every step he made between getting out of bed in the morning and getting back in it at night was a fight, was a battle he couldn’t see the end of, but one he found himself relentlessly fighting all the same.

And so Merlin pressed send, and clenched his eyes shut tight.

*


End file.
